


Joyride

by KaiserinAstraia



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, They are so in love, Years Later, hints of PTSD, outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserinAstraia/pseuds/KaiserinAstraia
Summary: “So, where are we going?”Riku turned until Sora had to sit back slightly, and he met Sora’s eyes slowly, his stare sohungryit made Sora shiver involuntarily.Riku’s voice was thick and dripping with guilty need. “It’s a joyride, Sora.”-- Or, the fic in which Riku conveys his feelings through impromptu motorcycle trips.





	Joyride

**Author's Note:**

> I retain the right to lie about how long it took me to write this laksjdlfkj
> 
> Shoutout to Fireborn (Anna) and AmbitiousSkychild for encouraging me!

“Just a small trip,” was what Riku promised, looking at Sora over his shoulder with the sun glinting into his emerald eyes, playful and daring, while his lips wore a simple, casual grin — infectious and unassuming. They used to be rare, and Sora still treated it as such. His heart took a mental snapshot for later like it was a gift, all of it — the smile, his hair glimmering white in the hot summer light and stray hairs from his bun swaying in the small breeze; his dark leather jacket resting on his shoulders just… so; his motorcycle, glittering like blue sandstone or the night sky and resting between his legs patiently, like it belonged there, and Sora wished he was— 

Sora huffed, gaze flicking back up, “Sure.” He must have had a goofy grin on his face, because Riku smirked back, lips whispering thrill and knowing indulgence and _something_ that puts Sora’s heart in his throat. 

Sora clambered onto the bike with little grace, trusting Riku to hold it upright even as he plopped into the backseat. It was comfortable enough, just lacking leverage for Sora to grab. 

Riku must have known what Sora was thinking. “Hold on,” he said, but Sora heard the rest in the dark flecks in his eyes: _to me_. 

“Safety first,” Sora joked, and earned a chuckle from his driver, low. Sora blinked, staring at Riku’s back. He'd have to make him laugh again, see if he could feel that rumble in his chest if he were against the expanse of leather. 

“Yeah, don't think there's anything safe about these things,” Riku commented, but the words were edged in warning.

Sora rolled his eyes with a grin. “No risk, no reward,” he replied, then stared at Riku’s back again. He knew what Riku would say next, something about how Sora didn’t _have_ to go with him, but Sora knew that already. He also knew that Riku had been restless lately; it was in the way his knee jumped under the dinner table, the longing stares out the window, the early mornings he slipped out of bed, quiet so as to not wake Sora — but Sora had been a light sleeper for years, ever since he emerged from the abyss. What he didn’t know was how Riku thought Sora hadn’t noticed — and why he just _knew _that this was related. Sora felt a buzz under his skin, a cacophony of anticipation and curiosity — he knew Riku felt it, too. He knew how much Riku _needed_ this, whatever it was.

As if Sora could resist following wherever Riku went.

So instead, he snaked his arms under Riku’s, scooting forward in his own seat until his chest met Riku’s so solid back, warm from the sun caressing it, and Sora was a happy replacement. He wrapped his arms around Riku until his fingers could have rested between Riku’s ribs, had he been shirtless. That was a nice image, Sora thought, and smiled as he pushed his face into the nook between Riku’s neck and shoulder, placing a small kiss there that was more push. Though he held Riku to be sly, it'd be a lie if he said he didn't feel sickeningly content and secure there. 

He tilted his face up.

“Safe enough?” Sora asked sweetly, letting his breath ghost across the short hairs behind Riku’s ear, tipping his nose to bump up into the crook of it. His hair still smelled like his shampoo, something crisp and clean and _Riku_.

Sora smiled when he felt Riku tense, and he desperately wanted to know if there were goosebumps under that jacket of his.

“Yeah,” Riku breathed, distracted and so unsteady it twisted in Sora’s stomach and lit a small flame there— but he didn't do anything but enjoy it. Riku cleared his throat. “That's perfect.” 

Riku kicked up the stand of the bike with ease, pivoting them to be fully upright, and Sora could feel every minute movement of Riku’s body; the shift of his hips, the tensing muscles in his back and shoulders. Sora smiled and stayed in his little spot of heaven, watching with undue fascination how Riku’s fingers splayed up on the handlebars of the bike, then fall one by one, like chain-links clinking to the concrete, and grip the rubber. 

It was a little harder to breathe, and Sora squeezed Riku a little tighter. “Where are we going?” he murmured as Riku started the vehicle with a loud roar. The sound went straight to Sora’s blood, like it was the gasoline inside the tank, and the motorcycle’s engine simmered down to a rumbling, raucous purr that sunk into every one of Sora’s bones. He decided he liked it, because it felt like another memory, of pulsing, slick skin and slow, boiling heat and friction— 

“Don’t know,” Riku replied, tilting his head back ever so slightly, pushing his hair into the side of Sora’s face. “I’ll just _follow my heart_,” he settled on, his small teasing smile so vivid in Sora’s mind’s eye.

A bubble between them popped, and Sora scowled, poking Riku hard through his jacket. Riku laughed again, rhetorically sputtering, “hey— what’s _that_ for?” and Sora replied with an equally vacuous but joking, “following myheart, jerk,” before Riku revved the bike and swerved hard to turn, laughing. 

The chuckling died at the end of the driveway where he hesitated, fingerings flexing anxiously at the handlebars. Sora settled against Riku’s back again, wrapping his arms around tightly and resting his chin in the dip of Riku’s shoulder. He blinked, solemnity creeping in again at Riku’s tensity. 

His voice was lower than he recognized when he asked again, “So, where are we going?”

Riku turned until Sora had to sit back slightly, and he met Sora’s eyes slowly, his stare so _hungry_ it made Sora shiver involuntarily.

Riku’s voice was thick and dripping with guilty need. “It’s a joyride, Sora.” 

Sora’s mouth went dry. Riku waited in a raptured gaze, like a gladiator held his breath for a thumbs up or down. Sora felt the power so heavy in the crevices of his _teeth_, his heart hammering the echoes of a secret. 

“Then pick a direction,” Sora exhaled his demand. 

The way Riku’s eyes morphed to smoldering green fire made Sora feel like they'd ditch the bike at any moment and devour each other on the concrete, but Sora kept his dare in his stare. This was something revived, long lost between Riku’s fall to darkness and journey to light, and Sora’s fervent pulse whispered _show me, show me, show me. _

“Ok.” Riku turned back to stare forward, his posture relaxing as his resolve hardened. With no warning, he accelerated and peeled out to the street, and Sora remembered. 

Sora remembered when the Play Islands were new to them, how Riku would grab Sora’s hand and tell him the same thing Sora echoed: to pick a direction (— and as before, Sora’s heart had remembered before his mind). When Sora couldn’t decide where to go, Riku would spin and spin and _spin_ him until Sora, giggling too hard to speak, pointed straight ahead. Riku never argued with their Sora-compass. Hand in hand they explored every inch of the spit of land like it was a grand adventure, like it was an entirely different universe, far away from adults and school — and back then, it was. The beach lent itself to pretend pirating, but there was something in the way Riku stood on the paopu tree, grinning ear to ear and claiming the vast, open sea as _theirs_ that made Sora wonder if it was the setting or the theme of the fantasy that was so alluring to his friend.

Sora knew better now.

_Joyride, huh?_ Sora smiled to himself, then back into the dip of Riku’s shoulder. The destination — the _direction — _had never truly mattered to Sora, either. Between years of specific goals and specific worlds on his shoulders, forcing his steps, he forgot that. But now, the crisp, salty wind carved through Sora’s hair and scraped across his scalp, cold and satisfying the faster Riku drove. His let his eyes slip closed, breathing in deeply — the smell of leather filled his lungs, felt like _Riku _was in his chest — because he knew this was what Riku _wanted_ Sora to feel. For a moment, he was soaring in the sky among the clouds and birds, limitless and weightless under the warm, benevolent light of the sun. Pixie Dust had nothing on this sensation, real or dream — just like when they were kids, Sora believed in every fantasy Riku exposed to him.

When Sora opened his eyes, the quaint suburbia on Destiny Islands had melted away, transformed into kalo fields and coffee farms on either side of an endless highway. All the heat had left Sora’s body save his front, protected by Riku’s body. Sora gazed at Riku’s hands, those long, lithe fingers tapping to a silent tune on the handles, up to his outstretched, reaching arms to his relaxed shoulders. Sora couldn’t see it, but somehow he knew on Riku’s lip would be a relieved, small smile.

They drove, and drove, and drove, only the occasional car or truck to weave around. Sometimes when the road was clear, Riku would play around — snaking back and forth between the lanes just to feel the pull of the wind and gravity on the bike. Every time it ignited a new rush of thrill in Sora’s veins, and he laughed and yelled to the sky in bliss. He wasn’t sure if Riku heard him, but Sora felt out their connection — their hearts, always in tune and dancing intertwining — and knew their feelings were echoes of each other. They felt the same things, so what was Riku trying to tell him with all this? 

The sun passed slowly overhead, the shadow of the bike a sundial on the white concrete. It was just as patient as Riku was, and full of light. He knew that sometimes Sora needed an extra push to understand with his mind what his heart already knew. Holding Riku’s waist tight, he tilted his head back, watching the clouds slip away. Just as there was always darkness to pair with light, the moon peeked through, low in the sky. Blue shifted to yellow, then orange, then pinks and stars twinkled through the fuchsia surrounding the sunset.

The stars were so many now, with the worlds restored and light and darkness in balance. He wondered if they’d ever see them all — he wondered how his friends were doing. It’d been awhile since he even heard from Donald and Goofy. There was a time Sora needed space — Riku needed it too. When had that abated? When had the cracks on their hearts filled, the pieces of themselves returned? And what was left?

The answer was there, in the night sky, waiting to be found. Suddenly, all Sora felt was yearning, not a feeling of emptiness but of a fullness his body couldn’t contain. He blinked slow, eyes roving the trees. He remembered passing the beach earlier in the day. It really was a small island. They were probably closer to home driving straight than they’d be if they turned around. A small world.

A chill rolled down his spine, spreading down his arms and legs to the tips of his fingers and toes, and his eyes widened, stare near frozen on the infinite lights. So _this_ was what Riku wanted to show him — what he needed. Sora gripped Riku closer involuntarily as his chest swelled like high tide. He wondered how long Riku had been looking at these stars as a choir of sirens — but equally, he couldn’t help but smile in relief, that _still_, Sora was the one to witness Riku’s secret unfold. That Riku would _bare _himself to Sora in all his raw desires as each mile passed under the bike’s wheels. Funny, that Riku had been so nervous about it, like every part of himself he showed to Sora wasn’t a treasure he cherished, as if Sora weren’t _starving _for the same things. Sora just had to spin a couple times to get it. 

And really, this all would have been easier if Riku had just _said_ it. Maybe Sora should give Riku a taste of his own medicine.

His fingers that gripped Riku’s leather jacket so tightly loosened, like strands of rope unraveling before snapping. Flexing his hands was enough of a reminder to the rushing pavement below them that his stomach coiled a little, but he didn’t fully let Riku go. Instead, he slid his hands down. Riku turned his head and said something, but it was lost in the noise of the engine — Sora read Riku’s lips enough to know to nod reassuringly, that yes, he’s fine. More than fine, as the tips of his fingers found the hem of the jacket, and found it was loose enough he could slip his hands under. His grin turned sly again when he pushed up leather and cotton just enough, and touched Riku’s bare skin, so smooth and warm inside his clothes. Riku’s stomach flinched away from Sora’s cold fingers, but only for a tantalizing moment. Sora pressed, splaying his hands to take up as much space as possible. The area was familiar to him, knew every rise and fall, but he explored like it was new, tracing toned muscles softly, like one would a classic Greek statue. 

Riku gave him no response, eyes steady on the road and posture unmoving. Feeling dared, Sora nuzzled Riku’s collar until it pulled away and placed a chaste kiss right there. Simultaneously, Sora pulled his hands higher, his arms slipping under Riku’s clothes too. He could feel every breath Riku took when he reached his ribs, and— _oh_, that spot made Riku falter, when Sora swiped his thumbs across both Riku’s lowest ribs. Smiling, Sora kissed at the bottom of Riku’s neck again, lingering because he could still smell faint remnants of Riku’s cologne. It went straight to his head like smoke. 

Sora felt the rumble of Riku’s voice against his chest again, and liked to imagine what Riku had said was his name, both a warning and a challenge. Sora wished he could see Riku’s face, see if he was straining to stay stoic, if he was slightly frowning in that way he did when he knew that Sora was getting into mischief to his expense — if his eyes were betraying him as usual, glinting with want and full of love. But maybe _not_ seeing was part of the suspense, the fun, the challenge.

How far could Sora take this, until his message got through?

He trailed his nails gently on Riku’s sides, up and down, up and down, like a cat circling its prey, while he turned his attention back to the curve of Riku’s pale neck. With his silver hair up in his little bun, it was just so exposed, just _waiting_, really, so inviting. Sora moved his lips a little higher than his previous kiss, and pressed again, opening his mouth just enough to exhale, knowing it’d be so warm compared to the highway air. Riku shivered, breath hitching so gently that if Sora hadn’t been pressed up against him, Sora wouldn’t have noticed. Giving not a moment's rest, Sora swiped his tongue across the skin, tasting the salt lingering on his skin from the day.

This time Riku inhaled deep, and slow — one… two… three — and then exhaled just as slow — one… two… three — and Sora couldn’t help but smile. Riku was wise to steady himself, because Sora had just gotten started.

Opening wider, Sora pressed his tongue into the flesh of Riku’s neck and then swirled. There was something so tantalizing about the fact Riku couldn’t stop him with his hands occupied, and that Sora knew it felt good. _Joyride_, Sora thought again, before sucking lightly in his happy little spot. A sound flitted across his mind of Riku’s frustrated groan, deep and short, one that was likely being drowned by the motorcycle. Still, it settled in his stomach and flipped; and when had he stopped stroking Riku’s sides, and had dug his nails in, instead? He thought about how that would look, little pink crescents in Riku’s skin — and swirled his tongue on Riku’s neck again. He wanted to leave as many marks as he could.

He pulled away just enough to see the blooming purple spot, the pink surrounding it. Riku would have to put his hair down when they got back, at this rate, and that suited Sora just fine. In fact, this coffin could use a few more nails, he thought, so he dipped back in, higher and closer to Riku’s ear. Right before he began again, he glanced to the side, trailing down Riku’s arms (— sinfully accentuated by the damn black leather —) back to his hands. They weren’t so relaxed anymore, gripping so hard Sora could see the tendons attached to the knuckles. Sora wondered… He looked back to his new patch of clear, smooth skin and latched on, sucking and licking leisurely, like he could and would do this all day if he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Riku’s hands again, and relished how Riku’s knuckles had turned white with the force he was gripping.

It was so easy to get lost in the taste of Riku’s skin, the drag of his nails across Riku’s stomach, now, and the want swimming across every nerve of his body, settling in a hum that was more than the wind and the bike, though it certainly didn’t damper the sensation. It was as he bit Riku’s neck playfully, a tantalizing drag of teeth, that Sora realized he was hard — hard enough that had he been wearing jeans that Riku insisted he wear, it would have been uncomfortable. Sora was glad he hadn’t listened. He pushed himself full flush against Riku’s back, Sora’s desire obvious and pleading at the base of Riku’s spine — and Sora knew Riku could feel it. At the very least, if he couldn’t feel it _physically_, he would feel the incessant tug on the link between their hearts, as pink as the last rays of light on the sunset and hot.

The question was just exactly how did Riku intend to deal with it.

Maybe it was a game of how long Riku would keep driving till he broke, stopped on the side of the road and had his way. God, and he could, too, grass or dirt or bugs be damned. The thought made Sora groan into the hickey he was bestowing, one hand drifting lower and lower. Riku was wearing jeans, the killjoy, but that wouldn’t stop Sora’s adept fingers if he got desperate enough. Just the danger and _what if_ was enough to sustain Sora’s impish curiosity, for the moment, lightly rimming the hem of the jeans. 

Sora felt like this moment could stretch on forever just like the highway, a pocket of heavenly eternity just for them two. Sora vaguely recognized the concrete and the speed as threats, but only inasmuch as they were a thrill. And Sora trusted Riku, trusted him so much Sora felt invincible, felt he could let himself get lost in feeling nothing but the summer air and Riku and nothing could keep him away.

He reached Riku’s ear lobe and began nibbling, satisfied with the small garden he’d planted on Riku’s neck. His hips had a mind of their own, grinding slow against Riku’s back, sending little sparks of pleasure up Sora’s spine that did little but rile him up more, but there was something nice about desperation. The mental image of pressing Riku’s naked chest into the mattress while Sora rutted slow against his ass clouded his mind — He hoped Riku could hear his groans, knew how much Sora _wanted_. Riku had given him full reign, but had forgotten how insatiable they were. 

Sora walked his fingers down past the top button of Riku’s jeans and instantly found the hard bulge waiting for him. Pleased, he purred into Riku’s ear as he dragged a heavy touch up and down the length of it. If he was _this_ hard, surely he wouldn’t make Sora wait _that_ much longer. He watched in immense satisfaction as the speedometer needle ticked steadily up and up. 

Sora wasn’t sure if it were one, five, or ten minutes until Riku made a sudden exit; he had gotten lost in the rhythm of his hands, his hips, but Riku decelerated hard enough that Sora fell against him. The pressure made a wanton sound escape from him, unwittingly this time, and— when had he gotten so light-headed? 

Riku had pulled into a rest stop, completely hidden by trees from the highway. Through a bleary, blinking gaze, Sora saw it was just a yellow-brick building with vending machines and bathrooms, but the grounds were relatively well maintained judging by the groomed and carefully placed trees and bushes. They flew past the building to the very far back, where the parking lines were fragmented and faded. Even in his love-crazed haze, Sora laughed to himself as Riku whipped into a lot where a big tree grew dangerously close to the sidewalk, the branches outstretched far past it and low enough that Sora could reach up and pick leaves with ease. Something told him it wasn’t the shade Riku was after. 

It was no sooner that Riku killed the engine and kicked down the bike-stand that Sora slid off of it. God, the _glare_ Riku gave him, his eyes both smoldering and piercing ice, shook Sora to his core like he’d been tugged by the stomach, but Sora couldn't stop grinning. Faster than Riku could even ask, Sora lifted himself up effortlessly on Riku’s thighs, and swung a leg over to the other side. Like a reverent, holy offering on an altar, he lowered himself in Riku’s lap, legs spread wide and open and his shaking hands reaching for Riku’s face like it was a gift from the gods.

“Sor—” Riku growled, but was cut off by Sora’s impatient lips. When they crashed together, Sora swore he saw Kingdom Hearts itself behind his eyes, Riku’s soft lips euphoric and explosive like a star imploding into multicolor chemicals, and he drank it all in. Riku’s kisses always made Sora’s head spin, but he felt high among the clouds and caressed by the loving gaze of some higher power now. For all of Riku that he drank in, he poured himself all back in, like he had lifetimes of love to convey in one moment — but god, the things he’d _do_ just to stay here forever. 

Riku made a low, greedy sound in the back of his throat, drawing Sora’s attention back to his and the warm body he clung to. Sora responded instinctively in kind — this just wasn’t _enough_. He swiftly pulled away, but Riku followed after, leaning in and unwilling to part. But it wasn't Sora’s intention to _stop_ kissing, just _more_, and so he crashed in again, and again. It was the third kiss that Sora noticed Riku was gripping his hips, thumbs pressing hard into the valley of them, and that that felt _good_, and Sora was involuntarily grinding down, mindlessly chasing tastes of pleasure like birds gliding up on gusts of wind.

On the fifth kiss Riku didn’t follow when Sora pulled away, and Sora opened his eyes slow and drunk. Riku’s little chuckle was everything, told Sora that Riku received everything and didn't know how to hold it all.

Frankly, Sora didn't know either, but as far as Sora was concerned, Riku would have to learn, _learn_ because Riku deserved every drop of love Sora could give. Sora needed Riku to soak in it like his bones could absorb it, and maybe then he’d have a faint idea how possessed Sora was, haunted by feelings that felt infinite and ancient, overflowing. 

“Love you,” Sora murmured deeply, as a way of explanation. It wasn't that it needed to be said, it was that Sora couldn't stop thinking it, couldn't stop the tidal wave of it crashing into him over and over again and spilling out in every way it could. The maddening part was that the word love wasn't even enough. Vaguely, Sora knew that he’d have to use more words, but he knew he was too swept away to form even a full sentence. 

Riku pulled Sora back in by the jaw, just firm enough to make Sora shiver but not hurt. The way their lips collided screamed “_finally_”, and Sora melted against Riku’s chest, any distance between them too much. Riku slid his tongue against Sora’s, warm and wet, and Sora opened his mouth wider. Sora’s hands, entangled in Riku’s hair, slipped to the base of his neck, where he pulled strands between his fingers before sliding down to his chest. The jacket was an obstruction, Sora determined, and he tugged the zipper like he wanted to rip it apart. 

“Love you more,” Riku mumbled between kisses as Sora struggled with the jacket without his sight. Riku’s breath was hot against his lips before Riku kissed him again, presumably to disable Sora from protesting to his _absolutely incorrect _statement, but Sora let it go, because his hands met Riku’s shirt now revealed as Sora tugged the leather away and off shoulders. The cotton was damp from sweat now, clinging to his pale skin enough to make Sora minutely jealous. 

Riku apparently had similar feelings about Sora’s hoodie, his nails scraping pleasantly up Sora’s back and bunching up the fabric. Sora was too eager to be coy about it, pulling away just enough to finish the job and toss the jacket to the seat behind Riku. He was wearing a tank under the jacket, the neck cut dipping low past collar bones. When Sora looked back, Riku’s eyes were there, dark and dilated. 

There was no reason to feel exposed at that moment; Riku and Sora had seen each other in all states of undress, all stages of life, and this was _nothing _in comparison. Maybe it was the new, small breeze against his warm skin, but Sora hesitated to dive back into Riku’s arms, instead pulling his shoulders back and leaning, as if he could pull open his chest on display for Riku to see, to show him every breath and beat of his heart that Riku owned. Sora was vulnerable but unafraid. 

Riku’s gaze lingered on his gift, before dipping down, down, where Sora knew his hardness was hardly shy through his joggers. Despite himself he felt heat rise through his ears, but Riku’s smile melted the tension just as fast as it came. Riku leaned in to Sora’s shoulder, lips and teeth meeting Sora’s collar bone so suddenly Sora moaned. He looked wildly around as his hands involuntarily flew into Riku’s hair, fingers pushing Riku in even as he pulled locks. No one was around, still, luckily, so his gaze drifted upward to the trees, seeing and yet not seeing the moonlight filtering through the leaves like shards of cathedral glass, a myriad of dark greens. 

Riku was intent on giving Sora a taste of his own medicine, sucking and biting his collar leisurely, leaving marks that would be impossible to hide. It kind of tickled, and Sora writhed restlessly, helplessly. “Riku,” Sora whined, thrown off by how gone he _sounded_, when Riku hadn’t even _touched_ him yet, not _really_. Riku listened to Sora’s plea by trailing up, reaching his neck. But Sora couldn’t take it without a spoonful of sugar, so he trailed his hands down Riku’s back, his ribs, down to his hips dragging his nails the whole way, only pausing to squirm and pant and groan in Riku’s ear so that he knew _exactly _how impatient Sora was becoming. Sora’s fingers found purchase on Riku’s hips again, the hard bone so tantalizing Sora licked his lips. It was so hard to focus with Riku pushing all his buttons, but suddenly Sora remembered a very specific button he could press back. 

It was sinful how tight Riku’s jeans were. They made sure to follow every curve of Riku’s ass and thighs, especially when he walked, and Riku knew it drove Sora crazy. It presented a new challenge with Riku sitting, torso leaning forward, but Sora followed the hem of the jeans slowly, the fabric rough against the pad of his index finger hooked in. It strained against the metal button in the center of Riku’s hips, taut and nearly unyielding — popping it open gave Sora a shiver of thrill, breaking down one more thing between them. 

Riku didn't react until Sora’s hands found their treasure, fingers wrapping around the shaft of Riku’s rigid, thick cock and pulling it out of the confines of his underwear and pants. “Sora—” Riku gasped, needy and surprised in Sora’s ear, where he’d been nibbling. He pulled away to look around, again checking their surroundings. 

Sora smiled through his lightheadedness, giving Riku a squeeze. “I’m here,” he replied cheekily, tilting his head as if to say, _are you?_ Before Riku could retaliate, Sora started a firm but utterly languid stroke up from the base to the head, choking Riku of his words. It was so _fun_, seeing Riku so discomposed, so pink, and so _wanting _— letting himself want, in front of Sora. It wasn’t the first time, but it never ceased to amaze that Sora was allowed to see, allowed to aid Riku in falling apart.

Riku rested his forehead on Sora’s shoulder, poorly swallowing moans behind his teeth as Sora slowly, tortuously, _rolled _his wrist down, and back up. Tilting his head, Sora could see his fingers wrapped tightly around Riku, how the length dwarfed his hand. He bit his lip, watching himself navigate every inch.

“Fu—_uck_, Sora—”

“You waited so patiently,” Sora purred back, no forethought occurring before he spoke, “you did so good.” 

Riku moaned brokenly more like a whine, right into the crook of Sora’s neck. Sora felt it in his own throat, twisting in him like a wind up toy. Sora decided right then and there, that right now he needed Riku to come in ribbons right here, and then, when they finally got home....

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” Sora murmured, voice deep and near foreign to himself. 

Riku’s got breath ghosted across his skin. “Can’t here,” he said before he leaned back. His eyes were lidded and shadowed like his mind was swimming, pulling Sora right in. “Wanna head back?” 

Sora frowned. Did he think Sora would let him go? That he could even drive right now? 

“Not yet,” Sora demanded, renewing the work of his hand two-fold, causing Riku to gasp — _oh_ and how perfect Riku’s mouth was, parted with wet, wanting lips — and collapse back into Sora’s waiting arms. “You’re going to come first.”

Riku made a noise something like a whimper, and Sora felt his cock twitch in response. Riku fell into Sora more than kissed him, but Sora groaned into the contact anyway. Riku’s lips were hot and full from Sora’s previous abuse, like the swell of waves crashing against the shore in how they pulled Sora in and simultaneously hit every nerve in his body. Riku’s kisses were always this way, even the first time — Sora was just as dizzy then, too, at the thought he could have something so wonderful all to himself.

Sora’s tongue explored Riku’s mouth at his leisure this time, content to let his taste simmer on his tongue like one would with fine wine. Riku was — for once, and understandably — less patient, prodding Sora’s tongue and lips with urgency. Little groans poured out of his throat and vibrated against Sora’s lips, and Sora had to resist the urge to grin.

His focus, drowning in their lip-lock and Riku’s voice, resurfaced when he felt Riku’s hips twitching — no, _snapping_ — forward in his hand still wrapped around Riku’s shaft. Electricity sparked at the base of his spine like Riku had thrust into him, just at the movement, and he mumbled on Riku’s lips, “_shit_.” Deciding to be merciful, he picked up the pace, meeting the urgency of Riku’s hips. It only took a few strokes for Riku to break their kiss in a desperate groan.

“What—” Sora panted, eyes glowering at him hungrily, “what do you want, Riku?”

Riku’s eyes opened and widened before his pink cheeks deepened into a blush that reached down his neck to the top of his sternum. He bit his lip, and Sora wanted it between his teeth, but instead he goaded, “Tell me.”

“Don’t— don’t stop,” Riku’s voice broke as he caved, ending in a hitched, “_ah—”_

Sora picked up the pace again, tightening his grip. His forearm burned from the effort, but Sora hardly paid any mind to it, not when Riku looked _so_ close to coming— 

Riku’s breath hitched again, like a hiccup, eyes narrowing yet not leaving Sora’s gaze. Sora knew all his tells. “Sora, I—”

“Come for me,” Sora demanded, licking his lips. Sora felt Riku’s desire like it was his own, a ravenous, sticky, bubbling, hot _swell_, and he watched as if entranced as Riku’s body tensed.

“Sor—_ahh, fuck!_” 

At the same moment, Riku’s hips arrested themselves as far up as they could, and Sora _felt_ his cock twitch against his palm. Sora scrambled to cup the head with his free hand, the only rational thought left as Riku came wildly moaning his name, a spell-gone-chant that Sora would hear in his dreams for many nights to come. He felt the sticky wetness paint his palm and _almost_ regretted not gulping it down — so instead he watched Riku’s flushed face, his furrowed silver brows and agape mouth. He felt an echo of the pleasure warm and glowing from Riku’s heart. Smiling fondly, Sora leaned in and captured Riku’s lips again, sweet and deep as if he could kiss Riku’s soul and add to his ecstasy. He could feel Riku’s heavy breaths as he kissed back, his muscles slowly relaxing into their embrace. After a moment, Riku broke their kiss with a sigh and pulled Sora against him, placing chaste kisses over and over on the top of Sora’s head.

Sora melted against him and listening to his hummingbird heartbeat, grinning as the seconds ticked by and the thrum of it slowed to something easy and calm.

“Well, that was… something,” Riku finally said, having the decency to sound a little bashful.

Sora snorted. “You gave _me_ a little something.”

Riku scoffed. Sora didn’t have to look to know Riku flushed red. Grinning, he slid back and off the side of the bike, standing with only slightly shaky legs. “Stay there,” he told Riku, nodding toward the bathrooms in the rest-stop building, “I’ll go get tissues.”

Lips pursed and expression still holding back embarrassment, Riku nodded, and with a giddy laugh Sora trotted off. When he returned, Riku had gotten off the motorcycle too, more composed.

Clean-up was easy enough, and as soon as Sora’s hands were clean he set them back against Riku’s chest as he placed himself in between Riku’s legs.

Riku kissed his forehead — small and sweet. “Thanks,” he said simply, and Sora understood it to encompass a lot of things.

Sora was slow to reply. He was still eager to get home and pick up where they left off, but he remembered as he felt the drum inside Riku’s chest against his palm that he’d had something he wanted to say before they headed back. Riku needed to hear it, to _believe_ it.

“Riku,” he started, though it was a statement on all it’s own. That word alone held Sora’s entire universe in the sounds and curves of the letters. “Riku, let’s take the gummiship and go — tomorrow.”

Riku tensed for a brief moment, and Sora pulled back to stare fully into Riku’s eyes. “I’m home whenever I’m with you, so we don’t have to stay here,” Sora continued, so sincere he felt it in his blood. “So, let’s go,” he finished, soft.

Riku’s eyes widened, mouth dropping slightly agape. “B-but…” he said, the hope lighting in his eyes like a small flame before dimming as he looked to the side. “We can’t just—”

Sora grabbed Riku’s face in his hands, tilting him gently to look at him again. “We _can_. I’ve picked my direction.” He let his eyes do the rest of the talking, adoring every curve and line of Riku’s face, letting his heart fall for the man that stood before him all over again.

Riku rested his hands on Sora’s hips, thumbs slipping under the tank and rubbing the curve of Sora’s hip bones. Sora couldn’t help but shiver, even as he waited patiently for a response. He knew Riku struggled to say exactly what he meant through words — but he knew that he tried, and that’s all Sora could ask.

Eventually, Riku met his gaze, that ever-so _determined_ strength in his eyes again. “You know that all I need is to be by your side,” he said. “I’m happy.” The way he smiled as he said it — Riku meant it. Sora felt it radiate off him, and it made tears prick at the corners of his eyes. That was all he ever wanted, Riku’s happiness. “But…” Riku trailed off.

“But, the universe is waiting,” Sora concluded with a smile of his own. “Besides, we never got to have an adventure on our own, together.”

Riku’s hands slipped to his lower back and he brought Sora close again. Sora reached up and wrapped his arms around Riku’s shoulders, pulling him equally close. With a kiss to Sora’s temple, Riku whispered, “thank you.” It meant more than a lot of things this time. Sora nodded into Riku’s chest, still smiling. He inhaled and let his senses bask in _Riku_ — the sweat, the sex, the cotton and crisp laundry detergent, the earthy scent underneath it all that was always on Riku’s skin — and felt more sure than he ever had in his life that _this_ was where he was meant to be — and Riku, too.

“It’s gotten late,” Riku finally said. 

As Sora pulled back, he noticed that the sun had completely set now. “We should head back,” Sora agreed, slowly, reluctantly left Riku’s arms. Sora trailed his fingers across Riku’s forearm up to the tips of his fingers, like magnets resisting separation. Sora felt Riku’s touch even as he slid his hoodie back on, and slid into the back seat of the bike. 

Riku slipped his leather jacket back on, and Sora watched the way the moonlight, now so bright, haloed Riku in white light, glittering through his silver hair. Sora forgot how to breath until Riku gracefully sat in the front. 

His arms wrapped around Riku’s waist without another thought. Leaning his whole chest against Riku’s back, Sora teased, “’_Just a short trip_’, huh?”

Riku snorted — not even a hint of an apology to be found — and they set out. Though the bike was raucous, Sora felt something even stronger vibrating between their hearts, like a string under the weight of a bow, trembling and singing. He tilted his head back, up at the sky, and knew Riku was gazing too — ahead, but into the stars. As he always was. _One sky_, Sora thought, _one destiny_. Sora didn’t know where they’d go, didn’t know what was even out there — but he smiled.

Whatever it was, it was theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted the motorcycle ride to be a sudo-fantasy for Riku, encompassing his need for adventure and freedom. I headcanon after canon is long behind them, the things they lost and the traumas they endured would heal and Riku could reclaim the desires that started the events of KH in a healthy way, with Sora, as he always dreamed. I hope I conveyed that.
> 
> Be my friend? :3 Twitter: KaiserinAstraia


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